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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25074817">with these ruined hands</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SydneyHorses/pseuds/SydneyHorses'>SydneyHorses</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Slight Canon Divergence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:07:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,025</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25074817</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SydneyHorses/pseuds/SydneyHorses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Byleth wakes up from her five year slumber, but she's kept aging this whole time. Despite how weak her body now is, she manages to drag herself back to the monastery by sheer will alone. Luckily, Dorothea is there to nurse her back to health.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dorothea Arnault/My Unit | Byleth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>with these ruined hands</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this was a request!! it was super fun to write, and i honestly really enjoyed it :) it was my first time writing Byleth pov, and it ended up being both easier and more enjoyable than i expected! let me know what you think~</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Byleth wakes up from the longest sleep she’s ever had, and she is alone. It’s not the first time in her life she’s been in such a state, of course, but it is the first time it feels absolute. After Sothis had sacrificed herself, Byleth had been both fatherless and alone in her own head for the first time in her life, and she had not liked it. It was so very lonely.</p>
<p>Now, waking up, she is imminently aware that if she were to die here, no one would know. Her limbs feel heavy, and her head is pounding in an overwhelming, all-consuming sort of way. She reaches a hand up to run fingers through her matted, ruined hair, which is now down to her mid-back. Her nails catch on it painfully as she does so, and she winces. What in Sothis’ name has happened to her?</p>
<p>She pulls herself to her feet, swaying dangerously as she does so. “Sothis?” She asks, but her voice comes out cracked and unused, scraping against her throat. There’s no answer, of course. Sothis has been gone for a long time.</p>
<p>Her memories of what happen next are fuzzy. She knows she manages to make it to the monastery, and she knows that Edelgard is there waiting. What Byleth doesn’t remember, however, is tumbling to the ground as she drags herself to the gates for the reunion, or the cry that ripped itself from Edelgard’s lips as she fell.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Her memories after that are inconsistent, to say the least. She wakes up in Garreg Mach, but it’s quieter than she remembers. There’s no school bells ringing out to signal class changes or lunch breaks, and although the infirmary is busier than it used to be, the injuries seem more serious. The war has certainly changed Garreg Mach, and not for the better.</p>
<p>It would seem that it’s changing them all, Byleth included. She can barely stand, and is in and out of consciousness, but she still wants to be useful to the Empire. To Edelgard. To her students.</p>
<p>The war has changed them all, and perhaps Dorothea most of all.</p>
<p>Whereas she used to be full of life, constantly laughing and teasing and singing, she’s now quiet and withdrawn. Byleth wants to ask why, but her mind doesn’t work the way it used to, and her tongue is a heavy, useless thing in her mouth. It’s all she can do to eat the thin broth that Manuela brings her, and to let Dorothea brush the tangles out of her hair.</p>
<p>At first, Byleth had been sure they would have to cut most of it off, but Dorothea had seemed to take it as a personal challenge, and had carefully worked through the matts and tangles until a brush could pass smoothly through Byleth’s hair. She doesn’t have the words to express it, but Dorothea’s determination meant more than she could truly articulate. She’s still thinking about cutting her hair, but it’s her choice, now, instead of a necessity.</p>
<p>Now, Byleth reclines in bed, listening to Dorothea read to her. Her voice is strong and clear, and even though Byleth can barely follow the story, it’s enough to hear Dorothea’s voice. Byleth is nearly asleep when Dorothea closes the book softly, resting her hand on top of Byleth’s. “Oh, Byleth.”</p>
<p>Dorothea sighs. She sets the book off to the side and reaches out, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle in the blankets covering Byleth’s legs. Byleth opens her eyes just enough to catch the faraway look on Dorothea’s face. “This war has taken so much from us, in the last five years. I don’t want it to take you as well.”</p>
<p>In that moment, Byleth hates how weak she is. She hates her fragility, her ragged nails and inability to stand. Were she healthier, she could rise up and take Dorothea into her arms. She could press a hand to Dorothea’s cheek, and soothe the worried lines of her face.</p>
<p>But her head spins when she so much as sits up, and her muscles are nowhere near what they used to be. They’ll return, in time. She’s sure of it. But right now, it’s overwhelming how much she cannot do. A long time ago, a lifetime ago, back when another girl’s voice still lived in Byleth’s head, she’d told Dorothea that she could imagine spending the rest of her life taking care of her.</p>
<p>Clearly, fate had different plans.</p>
<p>Byleth’s breath rattles in her chest as she breathes in. “Dorothea…”</p>
<p>“Shhh,” Dorothea says, resting her hand on top of Byleth’s. Even despite the war, Dorothea’s hands are long and shapely. There are scars on them, of course, but her nails are well-attended to, and covered in dark red nail polish. She looks beautiful, and meanwhile Byleth is a withered husk of herself. “You don’t have to talk.”</p>
<p>Byleth’s eyes slip closed, her tongue heavy with words unsaid.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>When next she wakes, Dorothea isn’t there. It’s the first time Byleth has been fully conscious without the other woman’s presence, and she misses her immediately. She scoots up on the bed a little, propping her shoulders up on the pillows behind her.</p>
<p>“Hello?” Her voice is as cracked and disused as ever, and she winces at the feel of it scraping against her throat. What would Sothis say if she were to hear her in such a state?</p>
<p>Manuela sweeps into the room, her dress swirling around her ankles. “Byleth! Dear, you’re awake! And so much earlier than I’d expected!” She rushes over, resting a hand on Byleth’s forehead. “How are you feeling?” She doesn’t wait for a response before taking Byleth’s pulse, nodding approvingly and scribbling something down into a notebook that she produces from seemingly nowhere. “Is it just me, or do your eyes look brighter?”</p>
<p>Byleth blinks up at the physician, trying to process everything that’s just been said. “I feel fine,” she says at last. It’s a lie; she doesn’t feel fine, but she certainly feels better than she has. Her mind at least feels clear, less weighed down by fatigue and emaciation.</p>
<p>“Fine seems a bit of a strong word for it,” Manueala says, “but you certainly seem better than before. I’ll go get you some soup.”</p>
<p>Soup sounds heavenly, and she even thinks that she’ll be able to keep it down. Small miracles. Manuela leaves, and Byleth arches her back in a stretch, trembling slightly as she does so. It’s an effort, but it doesn’t send her reeling with pain the way it used to, and it feels good to move again, even if it’s still only a small stretch.</p>
<p>The door to the infirmary opens, and Byleth looks over, expecting Manuela. Instead, Dorothea is standing there, holding a bouquet of red carnations.</p>
<p>“You’re awake!” She sets down the flowers on a table by the door and rushes over to Byleth.</p>
<p>It’s similar to Manuela’s actions this morning, if Byleth is being honest. Except… when it’s Dorothea, it makes a slow curl of something warm unfurl inside Byleth’s chest. She has no words for it, no past experience upon which to compare it to. All she can do is smile weakly up at Dorothea. Dorothea beams in response, and Byleth, although she has no heartbeat, swears she feels something inside of her stumble.</p>
<p>“How are you feeling?”</p>
<p>Byleth sighs. “Better now.”</p>
<p>Dorothea blushes crimson at that, and it takes Byleth a moment to understand the reason why. She hadn’t meant it in that way, but it <em>is </em>true, she supposes. She always feels a little more lively when Dorothea is visiting her. It must be something to do with Dorothea’s vitality, as though her sparkling voice and kind eyes remind Byleth of the joys of being alive.</p>
<p>The two of them sit like that in an awkward, although not entirely uncomfortable, silence until Manuela returns. She sets the soup down on the bedside table and arches an eyebrow. “Dorothea. You’re becoming quite the frequent visitor, aren’t you?”</p>
<p>Is it Byleth’s imagination, or is there still a faint reddish tinge to Dorothea’s cheeks? “Just looking out for our dear professor,” Dorothea replies, voice steady.</p>
<p>“Of course.” Manuela winks at Dorothea and ruffles her hair, ignoring Dorothea’s cry of disdain and attempt to smack her hand away. Manuela’s laughter rings out like a bell, and a small smile appears on Byleth’s face.</p>
<p>Manuela drifts away, off to mix a drink or flirt or save a life, and Byleth and Dorothea are left relatively alone once more. Dorothea tucks a brown curl behind her ear, and then picks up the bowl of soup. “Come on, open up. It’ll be easier if I feed you.”</p>
<p>Byleth purses her lips, a gesture she’s picked up from Dorothea in recent weeks. Dorothea laughs again, softer and more intimate this time. “I know, I know, you’re not a child. But please, let me take care of you.”</p>
<p>Who is Byleth to argue with that? She sighs and gives a small nod, and Dorothea’s smile grows in response. Dorothea brings a spoonful of soup to Byleth’s lips, humming gently under her breath as she does so. As they’ve spent more time together, Byleth has learned that Dorothea cannot abide the silence, and believes that there should be music everywhere, all the time. Someday, when her voice feels like hers once more, Byleth will sing for Dorothea. It won’t be anything beautiful, not like the tender songs and melodies Dorothea graces her with, but it will be the best she can do, and Byleth knows that that is more than enough for Dorothea.</p>
<p>They get through the bowl of soup slowly, and when it’s finished Byleth’s limbs are heavy with fatigue from the talking and excitement. She yawns, and Dorothea laughs. “Tired?”</p>
<p>Byleth doesn’t want to be. She wants to stand and advise Edelgard, to fight on the front lines as she once did. She is nothing like what she used to be. “No,” Byleth says. “Stay.”</p>
<p>“Of course.” Dorothea sounds so pleased, and Byleth feels warm at the thought that she was the cause of such a happy expression on her face. Dorothea is sad so often these days; it’s good to see another side of her. “I can read to you again, if you’d like.”</p>
<p>Byleth shakes her head. “Talk to me. Tell me news.”</p>
<p>“What news is there?” The hint of joy in Dorothea’s voice is gone just as quickly as it had appeared, replaced instead by a grim solemness. “Every day there are new dead. We move to take the Bridge of Myrrdin in a week. It’s necessary, I know, but it’s… hard. We’ve all changed so much.” She sighs. “Sometimes I wish that it could all be like it once was.”</p>
<p>“Me too,” Byleth confesses, remembering occasional tea parties with Dimitri and Claude, and good natured conversation with students from the other houses over mealtimes. It had been a simpler time, or had at least seemed like one.</p>
<p>“Still,” Dorothea continues, “when Edie succeeds, there will be a new world. A better one, where some of the misfortunes that befell me will hopefully not be so common.” She looks down at her hands, placed delicately in her lap. “It’s worth it, I know, but sometimes I wish there was another way. One without so much heartbreak and pain.”</p>
<p>Byleth nods. There don’t seem to be words for this sort of thing, and her head is growing heavy with fatigue once more. Instead, she rests a hand on the blankets, palm up. Dorothea’s shoulders loosen at the gesture, and she rests her hand on top of Byleth’s. Byleth curls her fingers up, gently holding Dorothea’s hand. Her head may spin and her exhaustion may be overwhelming, but she gets better every day.</p>
<p>“When I’m better,” she says haltingly, “after the war. We’ll make a life without those things. A happy one.”</p>
<p>The same blush as earlier returns to Dorothea’s face, and she ducks her head bashfully. “A life with you, huh? Free of heartbreak and pain?” She bites her lip in an attempt to control her smile. “I think I’d like that.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>stan edelgard and come find me on twitter @edelgardlesbian</p></blockquote></div></div>
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